Even 'Idiots' Believe They Can Come Back

MIKE BERARDINO COMMENTARY

October 15, 2004|MIKE BERARDINO COMMENTARY

BOSTON — Thursday dawned gray and rainy in the Hub City, a background befitting the bleak circumstance of the local nine.

Down two games to none to the hated New York Yankees in this American League Championship Series, with both Boston pitching aces landing in the loss column, the Red Sox were facing the increasing likelihood 21-game winner Curt Schilling is done for the season with a bum right ankle.

"Panic Time," screamed the back-page headline in the Boston Herald.

Amid this depressing swirl, Red Sox reliever Alan Embree bopped into the home clubhouse at Fenway Park with a Seattle Seahawks cap turned backward and a song in his heart.

"Nine-teen, eight-teen!" he sang, mimicking the endless refrain of the Yankee fans who love to remind the Red Sox of the year they last won it all.

"Cheer up, guys," Embree told the stunned media. "We're all right. We win this next one, you'll all be writing good about us again."

Welcome to the inner sanctum of baseball's self-proclaimed Bunch of Idiots, where no situation is too dire to be ignored, no tradition too hoary to be violated, no joke too offensive to make.

So what if the last 13 teams to fall behind 2-0 in a best-of-7 series have wound up going home? These are the wacky, shaggy, slugging Red Sox.

Going against the grain is what they do best.

"We appreciate the pain and frustration the fans have endured year after year," Red Sox outfielder Dave Roberts said. "We understand their anxieties and expectations. But we don't let those affect us at all. If you did it would drive you crazy."

So you get Pedro Martinez walking into the clubhouse a few weeks ago with Nelson de la Rosa, a Dominican actor who stands 28 inches tall, at his side. No, make that on his shoulder. Like a parrot.

You get Game 3 starter Bronson Arroyo wearing his hair in cornrows just so he can be more like teammate Pokey Reese. And sluggers David Ortiz and Manny Ramirez growing out their Afros.

And you get that beehive thingy at the end of Kevin Millar's chin and, of course, the wild-man look of hirsute center fielder Johnny Damon. His shoulder-length mane and thick beard have inspired comparisons to everyone from Jim Morrison to Jesus Christ.

You can buy T-shirts around town that read, "W.W.J.D.D.?" Which is short for What Would Johnny Damon Do?

It was Damon who coined the term "idiots" in connection with this group. He got the brainstorm in late September, just as the pressure really started to mount.

Not everyone seems to embrace the I-word. Several of the more educated Red Sox players take pains to point out the description shouldn't be taken literally.

But by and large, it fits.

"It's the perfect word J.D. dropped on us," said Millar, the ex-Marlin. "We have a bunch of idiots. And you know when you sit back and think about it, it's probably exactly right. People do look at us and probably say, `Look at this bunch of idiots.'"

Last year's catchphrase was Cowboy Up, which Millar started using to describe the team's never-say-die attitude. Bunch of Idiots isn't exactly Band of Brothers, but it's close enough.

The Red Sox don't just lead the majors in runs. They unofficially lead the way in fun as well.

"We have a great mix of personalities," reserve outfielder Gabe Kapler said. "It's a potpourri of characters that creates a really great atmosphere and a lot of togetherness. When you have that type of intangible, it creates kind of a euphoric feeling in the clubhouse."

Oh, there wasn't too much joking on the short flight back from New York in the wee hours of Thursday morning, but things were noticeably calm by the afternoon in the Boston clubhouse.

"We have a bunch of guys in this clubhouse that just have fun," Millar said. "That's what makes this team special. We don't worry about what we're supposed to do, what we're supposed to look like, how we're supposed to wear our uniform."

In that respect, they are a 180-degree departure from the comparatively staid, cautious Yankees. Boss Steinbrenner hasn't allowed facial hair for years, although it never seemed to bother Thurman Munson or Don Mattingly back in the day.

The Red Sox? Most of them lack a pedigree. Or a clue.

"That's the kind of guys we have," Millar said. "You've got guys that have been non-tendered, released, played in the Northern League, played independent baseball. But you know what? It's a group of guys that have fun and play ... and have a brutal appearance."

Just as he did with the Marlins, Millar uses humor to bridge gaps, bring people together and lessen the pressure that can mount over a long season. Especially in a baseball-mad town like Boston.

"Kevin's really good at taking guys who are in different areas," Kapler said, "and bringing them tighter and saying, `Hey, let's all be together. Let's all laugh together, let's all joke together, let's enjoy being here.' Because you never know how long this is going to last."

Kapler speaks of the "constant banter" that takes place in the Red Sox dugout and adds it's a great way to cope with tense situations. Even as they face Kevin Brown and de facto series oblivion tonight in Game 3, the Red Sox will keep their idiot groove on, keep dumbing it down, keep laughing in the face of imminent danger.

In some ways it is their greatest strength.

"The unbelievable thing about our team is we're upbeat," Damon said. "We know we're in a hole, but even idiots know how to dig themselves out of a hole."